And The Flames Surrounded Him
by Callista Adderwell
Summary: An alternate ending for my english class project. Rochester doesn't become blind or lose his leg, but he seems to be going crazy after the fire. Jane visits him, but something supernatural is afoot.
1. Chapter 1

Jane sat and listened eagerly as the man explained what had happened to her beloved. "The flames surrounded him, miss. They say he was lucky to escape with his life, let alone all of his limbs."

"Where does he reside now?" Jane inquired.

"Ferndean, but not happily." The man shook his head sadly. "I have heard that in the first days following the fire he was in as good health as can be expected, but then he began to act strangely. The servants have said that he screams of fire in the night and when he is alone he can be heard yelling at another. They say he's going mad."

Jane gasped. She couldn't believe that a fire would break the iron constitution of Mr. Rochester. As long as she had known him he had been unbending and unbreakable. Surely, he couldn't be going mad.

She thanked the man for his information and left the inn hurriedly, one thought was in her mind. I must see him.

The door was closed as it had been for the entire day, and the day before that and the day before that. Mr. Rochester had not left his room for what amounted to four days now. Mary brought him his food twice a day, but he did not even acknowledge her existence when she entered the room. He simply continued to sit in his uncomfortable wooden chair, even though there was a much more comfortable sofa behind him, in the middle of the room. He sat slumped over like an old hunched over man, his eyes closed as if he was in deep thought.

The only thoughts that ran through his head were, it can't be. It can't be. I must be going mad. But every so often another thought would break in, yet I am sure of what I saw.

He sat with all of the windows locked, yet suddenly an icy gust of wind swept through the room. The gust chilled Mr. Rochester as it hit him and in an instant his only candle went out.

His heart nearly skipped a beat as a wave of terror and anxiety overcame him. "No! Not again. My punishment!" He cried. Then in a quieter tone. "I beg of you, have mercy."

Bright flames seemed to spring up in a terrifying circle around him. They danced, licking their lips, but never daring to come any closer to him. Tears fell down his cheeks. Without even touching him, the flames had cracked his armor.

"Rochester!" A rage filled voice cried from nowhere.

Mr. Rochester looked up to find a bright red glowing eyes staring at him through a swirling gray cloud that was slowly expanding. The eyes seemed to pierce into his very soul and he felt a hollowness in his chest. "Please!" He cried. "Please!"

The fog did not seem to even hear him. The shining red eyes grew in size and the fog swirled around the room like a tornado. The wind picked up around Mr. Rochester and the flames danced and spun around him. "Rochester!" The disembodied voice cried again and Rochester was sure that this was the end.

But suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Come in! Hurry!" Rochester cried, struggling to be heard over the wind.

The door knob turned and as the door opened the wind, fire and strange fog dissolved immediately, as if they'd never been there at all.

"Mr. Rochester?" A soft voice asked.

"The fire, it's gone." Rochester gasped for breath.

He did not notice who had entered the room, who had saved him. Relief had washed over him and had blinded him momentarily.

"Mr. Rochester?" The voice asked again.

"The fire." He gasped.

"Mr. Rochester?" The voice stayed calm through all of the repetition and finally Mr. Rochester looked up to find a small, plain looking girl in a light blue dress holding a candle.

"Jane?" He cried with surprise.


	2. Chapter 2

I entered the room carrying a tray of tea. I took cautious, slow steps, so as not to spook him like one might do with a skittish kitten. But that was what he had become, as far as I could see. There was an oddness to his features. Had they become unfamiliar to me this quickly?

He stooped over like a man twice his age and I noticed that his face was more drawn and I swore that I could see more wrinkles across his face. It had never been a handsome face, but it had been natural. Now it seemed as though hundreds of years had pressed down on him all at once, aging him.

Suddenly I was able to believe what the man had told me. The man that stood in front of me was a man that I could imagine screaming at night, not to mention being afraid of anything that crossed his path. I could even sense a sort of fear towards me, although perhaps this was warranted.

At first he was confused. "Why have you come back?!" He demanded.

I tried to explain, but can see that he is not listening. He tapped his fingers incessantly and kept looking behind me, as if some monster would suddenly appear. Something plagued his mind, that was obvious. I know in my heart that the fire could not have shaken his iron constitution. But if not the fire then what? I had to find out what.

Eventually, he consented to me sitting down with him. He stands up stiffly, as if his legs hadn't been used in some days. With a nervous hand he took my arm and we walked arm in arm to the sofa. He felt my entire arm and then proceeded to caress my face lovingly. Yet there is something different about his touch. It is as if he is ensuring that I am actually here rather than just loving me.

We sat together for hours. No more than ten words could have passed between us. We did not need words; we were content to sit together in each other's arms. Even during this time, I could tell that Mr. Rochester was unwell. He twitched and fidgeted incessantly, even as we gazed into each other's eyes or I rested my head on his shoulder. Never was he fully focused on me.

But it grew late and we both retired to separate rooms.

Mr. Rochester led me to my room. It was dark and underused; I could see cobwebs in the corners and the blanket on the bed was covered with a thin amount of dust. Still I smiled at Mr. Rochester and thanked him for his kindness. He was in a fragile state and I had to be careful not to upset him.

With some ushering from me, he finally left me to retire to his own bed. I wondered if he actually got any sleep at night. I prepared for bed as soon as he disappeared. I wanted to get to bed quickly; the quicker to sleep, the quicker I would awaken and see Mr. Rochester again.

The problem was that I could not sleep. Something was keeping me awake. A darkness was heavy in the air. Although I could not see anyone in my room I felt a presence surrounding me. It was waiting patiently for the right moment to spring, I could feel it. I then realized that I was waiting too, I was waiting for it to show itself.

I did not have to wait long. My eye lids had actually begun to grow heavy, but every time that I closed them it was like a storm erupted in my mind and my eyes would open again, staring into the darkness. Twice this happened before the wind kicked up.

The first thing I did was check the windows. They were all closed and locked. The wind increased as I did this. I was aware of the same presence as before. I was not alone, that much was obvious. A sudden chill came over me; I could see my breath, smoky like a dragon's breath.

I wondered what I should do. Nothing else seemed to be happening. Should I get Mr. Rochester? No, I decided, he was hurt mentally as it was. I could not put him through more trauma. I would have to take care of this myself. But, I did not know what I was getting myself into.

"Jane." A voice hissed and I looked up to find a half formed woman floating above my bed. I recognized her tangle of black hair and the deranged look in her eyes. It was the same look that I had seen what felt like so long ago, when I'd found her tearing my veil in half, madness and savagery pouring out of her. I knew this woman.

It was Bertha Rochester.


	3. Chapter 3

**Now comes the point where I apologize profusely for not updating in I don't know how many months. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I'm going to try to update more frequently; I really am. I want to thank everyone for all of the positive reviews and encouragement I've gotten on this piece. I hope you enjoy.**

"Jane Eyre!" The ghostly voice hissed at me and my bones seemed to turn to ice, chilling me from the inside out.

I could not answer the apparition. I tried to wish it away, but, of course, this did not work. "I see a lot of myself in you, Jane Eyre."

"You do?" I asked, finally gathering my wits.

"Of course." She answered, her ghostly form levitated closer to me. "Rochester has wronged you, as he has wronged me. You are too weak, you and I both know this, but I am not."

"I don't understand." I stammered, her icy breath washed over me.

"Yes you do." Her eyes glowed red against the dark. "Let me inhabit you, Jane. Let me take _our_ revenge on Edward Rochester."

I was aghast at what she suggested. I could not fathom what she planned to do to Mr. Rochester, nor what would happen to me when I relinquished my body to her. I imagined my mind would be left behind inside of my puppet-like body. I would watch as another controlled my movements, my voice and my life.

Besides my own pain, I could not unleash such a force onto Mr. Rochester, my beloved.

_Our revenge_, she had said. How could she ever think that I would want to be a part of her insanity? How could I wish to harm my beloved, who I had come this far to see?

"No!" I cried. "Never."

She shrieked angrily, sounding more and more like the witch she was. Her form drew closer t ome still and as it did so her flaming eyes grew in their luminosity. "I will have my revenge." She whispered surprisingly calmly. She was close enough to touch me now. I could not move; I had been glued to where I lay.

I prepared for her icy touch.

I was surprised to find a burning sensation before the cold and darkness.


End file.
